Viewing out
by Felidae1
Summary: What do you do, when one of your greatest idols drops in for some lecturing? Guest-starring another one of Disney's heroes
1. Hello there

Despite the summary, this story is more of a physical dialogue, respectively exhange of experience, between two heroes.

Alas, if you're looking for grand-standing maneouvers and action scenes, you'll be highly disappointed. What originally started out as a heated battle of the swiftest, turned into a kind-of character study. Still I hope, you like this little excursion of one of his greatest influences into the Masked Mallard's hometown. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Drake Mallard/Darkwing Duck and all other characters are Disney. Seriously, what isn't Disney, that's not Google? Just..no rights, no profits.

Summary: What do you do, if one of your idols drops in to give some well-meant advice?

Rating: PG

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 _Viewing out_

 _1\. Hello there_

„And that's a wrap! Hah, you didn't think you could get away with cleaning out Quacktier's Crystal Château, you crooked criminals!" bellowed Darkwing Duck triumphantly.

He tugged at the cord slung around the four burglars, who groaned dejectedly. The sound of sirens caught the hero's attention, and he hurried to tie the rope around the next best telephone pole.

„Well, it appears, St. Canard's finest are on the way. Now, if you'll excuse me, gentlemen, there is work waiting for me."

Spoken, catapulted himself onto the next roof and was out of sight before the first patrol car rounded the corner. Watching from a safe distance, he secretely oversaw the thugs' arrest, then puffed himself up and crawed,

„Once again, a crime has been stopped in the attempt! The citizens of St. Canard can sleep peacefully, because Daaaarkwing Du-"

„Are you always this obnoxiusly loud?"

Darkwing flinched at the sound of the voice behind him. A quiet snort, then,

„Good moves, better skills, but you draw waaay too much attention on yourself."

Darkwing swerved around, ready to attack. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a figure standing on the rooftop over him.

Immediately, the crimefighter growled,

„Hey, who do you think you are, criticising me! Do you have any idea-"

His voice died down and he faltered, when he got a good look at his opposite.

Yellow jump boots, black catsuit, amber utility belt, wide, night-blue cape with blood-red lining and the unmistakable, trade-marked, azure sailor hat.

Phantomias.

For the longest time, the two heroes stood there, staring at each other; Darkwing gaping in incredulous amazement, Phantomias' gaze cool and collected.

In a flash, the Masked Mallard stood before Duckburg's defender, grabbed this one's right hand with both of his and shook it with enough enthusiasm to rattle this one's teeth.

„Oh my gosh, you're Phantomias! What an honour! What brings you here? I know everything about you! You're my number two idol!"

Phantomias, trying to hold on to his hat- and hand, respectively- stuttered,

„Tha-thanks- u-I guess. Who-who's Nu-umber-oOne?"

Darkwing struck an heroic pose.

„James Blunt, of course! Former SHUSH spy and secret agent extraordinaire!" he declared.

Phantomias squinted one eye and nursed his hand.

„Well, I guess I can live with that", he replied dryly. With a final clench he worked the kink out of his fingers, then turned with a determined swerve.

„Let's go", he demanded. Darkwing, slightly taken aback, asked,

„Where to?" There was a dangerous gleam in his eye, when Phantomias replied over his shoulder,

„Your finals."

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 _Mrrrrr, this is the very first time I've ever written Phantomias in any story. Don't get me wrong, I love him, respectively Donald, to bits, which is probably why I've shied away from writing stories about them, seeing as there are so many great writers who have done so over the past eighty-three years, that I have little to nothing to add to that._

 _So, consider this more of an hommage to one of the greatest cartoon characters ever._

 _Thus said, next chaper up and front..._


	2. Advise and adversaries

_Ok, ok, I admit, this is more of a ficlet than a full-blown story, so why bother to chop it up? Because it felt right. It's..something I cannot explain logically. The story tells me where and how to make separations, and I rarely tend to object. It might disturb the flow of the story, even if you, the reader, might disagree._

 _Thus said, let's see what our two heroes are up to.._

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_2\. Advise and adversaries_

„I must admit, St. Canard is quite a bit more lively than Duckburg," he stated, as he climbed the ladder to the top of the warehouse with ease, "then again, it's roughly one third bigger than my hometown, so I guess, that evens things out, right?"  
Darkwing followed Phantomias up the ladder at twice the speed, but somewhat less elegant. Darkwing, who sported a polished steel clamp over is beak, glaring in mute anger at his would-be mentor. Who smiled good-heartedly.  
„My apologies, but while monologueing for a superhero is fair and square and part of the trade, you are clearly overdoing it."  
Darkwing's nostrils flared, steam escaping them. Unimpressed, Phantomias continued,  
„Your sneaking skills notwithstanding, what point is there in being stealthy, when you're narrating your attacks out loud?"  
He shot the fuming Darkwing a bemused smile.  
„Though I must admit, I've given in to tempation once or twice, myself."  
Darkwing merely snorted.

Before the dead of the night, Phantomias and Darkwing had stopped two robberies, a break-and-enter, several cases of vandalism, three potential gang wars and one attempted kidnapping. As they fought side by side, Darkwing had ample time to decipher the Duck Avenger's modus operandi: it changed according to crime and place.  
To overturn a gang war, for example, it was imperial that everybody ceased fighting, so a grand entrance was well-advised.  
Darkwing couldn't help but grin at the memory; the felons had almost immediately capitulated, once they learned that Darkwing wasn't alone, but accompanied by the famous Phantomias himself.  
Though, even he had to admit, that he had felt somewhat intimidated, when the Duck Avenger stood there, looming over the site, perfectly working the interchange of light, night and shadows. Plus, there was the cape..that large, voluminous, red-blue cape, that flapped and swayed and billowed in the updraft; accenturating Phantomias' silent, condemning stare. Without uttering a single word, nor moving one muscle, he had dominated the entire scene.  
Then he had lept off the rooftop and descended upon the thugs like a flesh-turned nightmare.

Also, that's when Darkwing realised: Duckburg's defender moved much slower than he did.  
It wasn't that he didn't know how to throw a lightning-quick punch or deliver a high-speed kick, but it was obvious that Phantomias was a natural brawler, who had aqquired his fighting skills through years and years of on-the-fly-experience, as opposed to him, Darkwing, who had undergone extensive, accurate training.  
Unlike himself, Phantomias avoided any unnecessary movements, exaggerated acrobatics or balance acts, but focused on pinpoint gestures and preserving his energy.  
Darkwing glanced at his idol-turned-teacher for the ump-teenth time.  
Despite being roughly the same height, Phantomias was decidedly stockier. Not portly or fat, but he surely packed a good ten to fifteen pounds more.  
Plus, there was also the age difference. It was not in his agility or speed, but in his eyes; eyes, that had seen so so much more than most people could ever even begin to fathom, Darkwing not excluded.  
But whereas the Masked Mallard was deduction and recklessness, Phantomias was patience and reconaissance. He, Darkwing, had always thought himself great at observation, but Phantomias taught him better. Literally. 

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 _Here is something many writers tend to forget; despite being in nigh on excellent physical shape, Donald/Phantomias is still in his late forties/early fifties. Picture someone like Hugh Jackman or Tom Cruise, who are still in prime condition, but with age, some things just take their toll on a body. Be it slower reflexes, lower healing rate or plain and simply lack of stamina; you have to adjust your fighting technique to the abilities of your physique._

 _A prime example for this fact is Frank Miller's T_ he Dark Knight Returns _, where Bruce is faced with precisely that problem. I took the liberty of using his solutions as guideline for my story._

 _Next up: final chapter..hey, I said it was a mini-story..!_


	3. And so the story goes

_Ok, some of my US readers might have little to no knowledge of Phantomias/Paperinik, but here in Europe, Donald Duck's alter ego is as big as they get in the Duck Saga. Created in 1969 by the creative duo of_ _Guido Martina_ _and Giovan Battista Carpi, who were working for the Italian division of Disney, Donald takes on the mantle and mask of the gentleman-thief Phantomias/Paperinik, after accidentaly stumbling upon this one's diary._

 _For the full story, read Donald Duck #5 and #6(legacy Nrs 372+373 unter IDW Publishing)._

 _But back to our story; after all, that's what you're here for, right?_

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 _3\. And so the story goes_

If there was one flaw Darkwing found somehat irksome, then it was the fact that Phantomias wasn't big on big speeches. While it was quite apparent, he knew how and when to hold them, the Duck Avenger usually stuck to quips, oneliners and throw-away jokes.  
With each passed-up opportunity, Darkwing grew more and more annoyed, until he blew a gasket. Phantomias calmly let him rant for a while, then produced the clamp from inside his belt and waved it before Darkwing's face, efficiently shutting up the Masked Mallard.

Again, it wasn't as if the other crimefighter was perfect, far from it.

At times, he would trip over things or crash through boards, which should have supported easily twice his weight. Occasionally, he was downright clumsy, sometimes nearly accident-prone, as if a small stretch of bad luck permanently stuck to his heel. Yet, he would take the fall, curse under his breath, nurse his bumps, draw back to rethink his strategy and approach from a different, unexpected angle.  
He always kept his mind and options open, never insisting to match the facts to the theory, but adjusting his deductions to unravel the mystery strictly based on the information collected.  
Which was something that both unsettled and perplexed the Masked Mallard.  
How could Phantomias so easily throw away his theories, his results, the moment they proved wrong? Where did he take the courage to openly admit a miscalculation, a malassumption, a wrong accusation, yet move with pride, unscathed?  
Darkwing watched and memorized and listened, but try as he might, he just could not fathom the secret behind this confidence.

Night gave way to dawn, and Phantomias flexed his shoulders.  
„Well, guess that's it for to pick up my trusty ride and fly home."  
Darkwing gaped.  
„You- you know how to fly?!" he screeched. The Duck Avenger shrugged.  
„Sure. Glider, chopper, everything up to a DC-7, including small jet fighters of the second and third generation. Don't you?"  
Darkwing fidgeted, stuttering,  
"Ah, well, y'know, there was my -training, yeah, yeah, and I got a sidekick..."  
Phantomias' smirk was both patronizing and understanding, when he drawled,  
„Don't worry, I know how these things work. Plus, a trusty sidekick's worth a thousand skills."  
For a moment, there was a strange, almost forlorn look on the elder one's face. Once more, Darkwing was taken aback; there was..something familar, like a barely remembered dream, a vague memory, a fleeting sensation or a faint scent, behind the black mask.  
Then Phantomias regaled his features again.  
He smiled at his younger colleague, placed his hand on this one's left shoulder and declared,  
„Either way, you are on the right way to becoming one of our greatest crimefighters and superheroes, period. Just try to hold your horses and be less brash, and you'll be a-okay!"  
Darkwing sulked.  
„I already _am_ a great crimefighter and superhero, thank you very much."  
A small chuckle, another encouraging pat on the back, then Phantomias made his way towards the next housetop. Just as he reached the edge, he turned and stated,  
„If I doubted that, I never would have come."  
Blue met blue, then Darkwing Duck drew a sharp breath and rasped,  
„Thank you. For everything."  
He raised his hat to Phantomias, gave a deep bow, then ran the opposite direction, practically gleaming with joy and pride.  
As he watched the Masked Mallard leap across the rooftops into the sunrise, a wistful smile blossomed on Phantomias' face, as he whispered,  
„Good luck. Son."

fin

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 _* grin* Sorry about that last jaw-dropper, but I couldn't resist.  
This ficlet was highly inspired by Splatter Phoenix' _Mr. Mallard's Christmas vacation _, as well as Dave Alvarez'_ Darkwing Duck and Paperinik _print.  
Needless to say, I couldn't pass up the chance to team up my two favourite ducks in a somewhat quiet fashion. _

_Actually, the idea sprung from a comment on SplatterPhoenix' drawing(sheesh, I might as well right her into one of my stories, considering how often I mention her). We discussed, how much Drake and Daffy Duck resemble each other, and that they might have the same parent.  
Well, the timelines add up; Donald Duck was born 1934. Drake was about 9yrs in the mid/late Sixties, as shown in the episode _Paraducks _; at the time Donald would have been in his mid-twenties. Just saying._

 _While Donald isn't a player per se, he is known to be rather flirtatious, so an amorous escapade with consequences isn't too far-fetched. Also, it would explain Drake's  
somewhat stunted self-esteem, when growing up without a father, respectively being picked upon for being the kid of a single mother.  
Plus, while Donald might have many flaws, irresponsibility towards children is hardly on his list. Meaning, he would most likely have found ways and means to help support Drake and his mother by cutting the alimony from his already strained household budget, explaing his constant financial struggle._

 _All in all, I'm happy with how this story turned out, and I hope you enjoyed it as well. Don't be shy on reviews, and remember to give the artists, whose talents inspired this ficlet, their cudos, too._

 _Felidae_

 _Dave Alvarez' picture: www. deviantart art/Darkwing-Duck-and-Paperinik-print-382174116_

 _SpatterPhoenix' drawing: splatterphoenix. Deviantart art/Mr-Mallard-s-Christmas-Vacation-343953989_


End file.
